


This Charming Man

by poisontaster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-03
Updated: 2008-04-03
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "the only soul inside that makes me shake".  Boys and their toys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Charming Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_ellcrys](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the_ellcrys).
  * Inspired by [the only soul inside that makes me shake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4876933) by [poisontaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster). 



Sam presses Dean into the motel's brick façade, holding his brother in place with his body, with his mouth, while he fumbles blindly with the key, groping with it for the lock. Fucking door.

"You gonna let me do it, Dean?" he asks, turning his face away long enough to sight the lock and jam the key in, impatience and anticipation making his hands unsteady. He's been waiting weeks for this. Feels like a lot longer.

Dean's so much more malleable when he's drunk. Sweet, though Sam wouldn't ever use that word to Dean's face. Sam would feel worse about it, but he hadn't poured the Jim Beam down Dean's throat; Dean managed to get drunk all his own. Doesn't mean Sam won't gleefully reap the benefits though, as Dean nuzzles Sam's jaw, one hand slipping under Sam's shirt and the other rubbing purposefully against Sam's cock like Sam needs any encouragement. He could cut diamonds with his dick right now.

"I'm no welsher, Sammy," Dean mumbles into Sam's neck, wet and heated. Dean's teeth scrape the spot behind Sam's ear that is wired directly to Sam's cock while he jerks the end of Sam's belt from the buckle and tooth. Sam finally gets the door open, addressing a small prayer of thanks to whoever watches over brother-fucking degenerates like them. Sam pulls Dean sideways and they stumble-half-fall into the darkness of their room.

Sam nearly claws Dean out of his clothes, dragging his mouth and fingertips hungrily over every inch of skin he bares. Dean tastes of the salt and bitter of his sweat, strongest in the flattened dimple of his navel, the deep cut of his hip, the creases of his thigh.

"Fuck, Sammy." Dean's fingers crush Sam's shoulder as Sam nudges Dean's legs apart, lapping at Dean's balls and below, his fingernails scratching down Dean's thighs.

"Get on the bed."

Sam urges Dean down, his fingers searching out all the places Dean's always sore; the small of his back where he always hits the walls, and the backs of his thighs, the wide, always tense freckle-spattered shoulders and the dirt-streaked nape of his neck, knotted calves and the deep arches of his feet. Sam wants him relaxed. It was hard enough just getting Dean to agree; he damn sure wants to make Dean enjoy it.

Dean moans and melts into the mattress, utterly pliable. He'll deny it all come morning and he always has to be chemically altered on booze or painkillers, but the truth is Dean deeply loves being petted and massaged and stroked and there's not a whole lot he _won't_ do for Sam if Sam will just rub his feet first.

Sam was the last one out; he was careful to set out everything beforehand, knowing what condition they'd likely be coming back in. This is his whole point to Dean about frickin' forethought, he thinks as he slicks the fingers of one hand, kneeing Dean's legs apart.

Dean's legs spread gratifyingly wider at Sam's touch, humming deep in his throat and chest. Sam hides his smile in the space between Dean's protruding shoulder blades, feeling the weight of a long, fucked-up day sloughing off his shoulders.

_Hi, Dean._

"Oh…fuck, _Sam_ ," Dean groans, but he pushes back gratifyingly when Sam slides two fingers into him, hands fisting in the sheet, back arching. Sam leans in to nip that wing-like point of Dean's scapula. The brush of Dean's body hair against his hardened cock is both wonderful and unsatisfying; Sam hisses against Dean's skin and thrusts deeper, feeling it jolt through his brother's body, hearing Dean's breath catch and then start again, unevenly. He can _smell_ Dean, sharper now with the addition pre-come. Where their skin intersects it feels like they could sear together, melt into one thing, one organism, inseparable.

That doesn't sound so bad.

It's hard not to hurry. Hard not to just…go at it, fuck Dean with one of the dildos hard, fast and dirty, making Dean come just from fucking and then slinging Dean's legs up over his shoulders and having a go himself. Fucking Dean hard again and then impaling himself and finishing it that way, Dean inside him and Sam riding him into the mattress.

But Sam wants this to last. "You all right?" Sam strokes into Dean, feeling his brother shiver and flex around his fingers. Sam thrusts into Dean's thigh in counterpoint, needing that bit of friction, desperate for it.

Dean makes a vaguely affirmative noise, hips pushing into the mattress and back onto Sam's fingers. Sam slithers up to fasten his mouth over Dean's, licking in, encouraging Dean's tongue into his mouth to suck, feeling Dean writhe under the weight of his body.

Dean whines when Sam pulls out, trying to push up.

"Shhh." Sam closes his teeth on Dean's bottom lip, forces Dean back down. "Hang on. I'll make it good, Dean, I promise."

Sam's thought about which of the dildoes to use. Dean was so completely resistant to the idea that Sam thought about using on of the smaller ones, but Dean's such a fucking size queen, he'd be offended by the suggestion that Sam's taking it easy on him. At the same time, Sam's not about to come off the worse to any hunk of plastic and silicone, dammit. So.

The one Sam picks is the closest to his own size and shape as he could find. Give Dean what he knows, right? Sam straddles Dean's hips, letting his cock ride the crack of Dean's ass as he slicks the dildo.

Dean reaches back for Sam, gripping tightly at Sam's thigh and rocking Sam into him with each curt flex of his arm. "Sam," he growls, head rolling restlessly on the pillow.

"Shhh," Sam says a second time. He shifts back and glues himself to Dean's side , throwing one leg over his brother's. "Give me your mouth."

Dean leans into Sam and Sam takes Dean's mouth and then takes Dean's ass, first hard push through the muscle. Dean stiffens, the line of his back straightens and tenses and he moans out, swallowed by Sam's mouth over his.

 _Yeah. Yeah. Come on, Dean._ Sam worms his other arm under Dean, curling around, dragging him closer, dragging them together. Dean lets go of the spread to sling his arm across Sam and their legs momentarily fight for dominance in the struggle to fit tighter, get closer.

Sam doesn't stop the slow slide of the dildo and when all the shifting changes the angle in him, Dean cries out, fingernails cutting into Sam's skin. The moan turns to quieter, whimpering pants as Sam draws the dildo out, equally slow. When he pushes it back into Dean, Sam hits the vibrator switch.

"Sam." Dean's voice wavers wildly over just the one syllable, his eyes glazed and huge, locked devouringly on Sam's face so close to his own. "Oh, oh, _fuck_ , Sam…" His fingers tighten again, hard enough to bruise and the leg he threw over Sam's hip curls tight, heel digging into Sam's thigh. Then Dean's eyes slam shut and he bends his head onto Sam's shoulder, hiding his face against Sam's neck. "God, _Sam._ "

"I know. Can you…? Roll on your back."

The noises Dean makes moving onto his back make Sam double over with the effort of not coming. The effort involved in settling Dean, in moving to straddle Dean's waist, is monumental, superhuman. Just the hand Dean puts on Sam's hip to steady him is a distraction, a temptation to surrender to the pent up tension coiled tight in Sam's belly, his blood-stiff cock.

"Dean." Sam's own voice is taut, urgent and thank God for the years of shorthand conversation and near psychic-cognizance, because he doesn't have to say more than that for Dean to reach for the lube.

"Sam." Dean almost unseats Sam, arching up when he touches his own cock. "I can't…I'm not…"

"Just a little longer," Sam promises. He can't really _thrust_ the vibrator like he'd like to, at this angle, but he knows from experience that the jittering hum and the slow rock he _can_ manage should make up for it. "I swear, Dean. Just hang on a little bit, okay?"

Sam knows it's going to hurt, working himself down on Dean with no prep, but neither one of them has the patience for it. Besides, there's just something about Dean and pain that goes together like peanut butter and chocolate.

Like Dean and Sam.

They both gasp-moan when Sam sinks down on Dean's cock. The burn is incredible. The burn is _incredible_ and oh, God, Sam's going to be feeling this for days.

"Sammy." It's soft, almost tender, the way Dean says his name and runs his hand up Sam's thigh to stroke Sam's hip with his thumb. Dean rolls up slow, fucking into Sam and then into Sam's grip on the vibrator. A moment later, Dean's hand closes around Sam's cock with anything but tenderness, jerking him fast and rough. "C'mon," Dean coaxes roughly, bucking up harder. "Ride it, Sammy."

The noise that comes out of Sam's throat can't even properly be called a moan, strangled and choked. He lets go of the vibrator to hold onto Dean with both hands, driving himself onto his brother's cock again and again, letting Dean fill him.

His orgasm, when it comes, almost _hurts_ , Sam's mouth opens, but no sound comes out, clenched tight around Dean inside him, real and ideal. Dean groans, reaching up to drag Sam onto him harder, deeper. Sam falls across Dean, clinging hard, biting down on Dean's shoulder until he feels Dean break under him. Until Dean whispers his name.

The noise Dean makes when Sam eases the vibrator free makes Sam wish he could go again but the blessed out half-smile Dean gives him is pretty awesome all on its own. Normally, Sam's all about clean-up, but tonight, he just slings the vibrator carelessly on the nightstand and collapses back on the mattress, still twitchy with afterglow and just starting to be sore.

In the normal run of things, Dean is also a roll-over-and-sleep kind of guy, which makes it downright shocking when he rolls over to curl against Sam's back, pressing his lips between Sam's shoulder blades.

Sam tries to look over his shoulder, but all he can see is the back of Dean's head and part of his arm. "We okay?" He hates the way it comes out, tentative and weird and more than a little girly, but this was all his idea and even mind-blowing orgasms might not have made it okay.

Dean snorts, nudging Sam in the back with his nose. His arm creeps over Sam's side, pulling them tighter together. "We're always okay, dumbass."

Sam smiles. "You're such a fucking romantic."

Dean yawns, leg twitching against Sam's like a dog's. "S'part of my charm."


End file.
